Innocent: Means, Motive, and Opportunity
by jellymankelly
Summary: "Her right tangles in your hair, yanking your head lightly to the side. She starts sucking and nipping at your pulse point furiously, and the thought of her marking you so passionately makes you tighten around her as she fills you" Companion piece to Innocent. M for coarse language and sexual themes. One-shot.


**Title:** Innocent: Means, Motive, and Opportunity  
**Pairing:** Brittany Pierce/Santana Lopez (Glee)  
**Rating:** MA for coarse language and sexual situations

**Summary:** "Her right tangles in your hair, yanking your head lightly to the side. She starts sucking and nipping at your pulse point furiously, and the thought of her marking you so passionately makes you tighten around her as she fills you" Companion piece to Innocent.

**Disclaimer:** Glee and all related characters are owned by Fox Networks. No profit has been made through the publishing of this work of fiction; it was created for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

**A/N:** A little something to help end your Monday on a good note.

If you're following my other most recent work "The Charm is Firm", I've given myself until Friday night as a deadline to have it finished and posted. Just in case you were worried that my posting this meant a longer delay in finishing that one.

* * *

You're starting to really not like the word 'why'.

You're certain she isn't doing it on purpose. Probably she doesn't even know it's making you absolutely crazy; if she did you're also certain that she'd very carefully never do it again, which is why you don't say anything. The more she tries to accommodate you, the more she hides of herself. But even so, every time Santana questions _why_ you do something, it hurts a bit, and it makes you a little frustrated.

It's not like she's questioning every single little thing you do, like she doesn't trust you to handle things on your own. She respects you and even _admires_ you more than anyone else in your life ever has. It's more like, you keep doing these things, these things for _her_, and she keeps not understanding the reasoning behind it. Like it isn't completely obvious why you would bring a homemade sack lunch to her during her lunch break on duty.

"Brittany, you didn't have to do this, really. I mean, I'm grateful and all, but I- oh my God is that a brownie? Oh, that just smells amazing."

She doesn't need to know your mom made them. Recipes and you...don't really mix. Literally. You grin and peck her cheek. "I know I didn't have to. I wanted to."

She looks up from digging around in the brown paper bag - like she's a little kid hoping her mom packed her something good for lunch today and _so cute_ - to stare at you. That little line between her eyebrows that only appears when she's thinking really hard creases itself into her skin, and her eyes dart all over your face, searching for something.

"Why?"

You can tell immediately that she didn't mean to say it, at least not like that, all harsh and suspicious, because her face immediately flushes rosy under its natural toasty color, and her eyes drop back to her lap where her fingers are still fiddling with the sack.

"Because I wanted to," you repeat slowly. You're still not really sure what she's trying to ask when she does this. "I like doing stuff like this for you."

"But…" Her sentence trails off before it really even starts, and the crease gets even deeper, until you think maybe it's starting to show up in the bone beneath, it's there so much. "I don't…" She sighs, and gives you a timid smile, and offers you a piece of the brownie.

You take it, and her smile, and you give her a much bigger one in return, but you can still feel it floating around your heads. That unspoken 'but _why?_' she wanted to ask but didn't. You're not sure what the problem is, because she likes the food - she tells you so. And you know she likes seeing you, too, even though she didn't tell you so. She lights up whenever she sees you, and it makes your heart flutter like it has wings and it's just waiting to burst out of your chest and be free. You know the silly thing would only fly to Santana anyways. It hasn't actually been your heart for a long while now.

A tiny, petty part of you wonders if her face ever shone like that for Asia or whatever her name was. You only saw the very tail-end of their relationship, but somehow you still don't think it did, and the thought makes something in your chest twist pleasantly. You feel a little bit like growling and kissing Santana like her lips are all you need to survive, but that seems kind of..._possessive_, and you're not the jealous type. Or at least you didn't used to be.

You don't really think anymore on any of it, really, until later that night. You're curled up on her couch, leaning into Santana's side while her arm drapes comfortably around your shoulders, watching some silly show she likes for reasons you can't really understand considering how much she likes to rant about how ridiculous people are, especially when drunk. This show seems to have found the most ridiculous (and drunken) people on the whole planet, all in one place, but it makes her laugh and since that's just about the prettiest sound you've ever heard in your life, you're not about to complain.

They're just about to enter into some club or something when the thought occurs to you that you and Santana have never been dancing before. The last time the two of you were in a club, you didn't even really know each other and she was still technically in a relationship.

"We should go dancing."

"Right _now?_"

You have to smile a little at her tone. No one should sound that cute when they're whining.

"Well, no. I mean, if you wanted to we could go tonight, but I just meant soon. We should go dancing soon. I wanna show off my-" you stop yourself before _girlfriend_ slips out. You've been dating for a couple months now, but you haven't had 'the talk', and you don't want to assume anything. "I wanna show you off."

"Ew, no. Me? Why?"

A glance up reveals a scrunched up nose and twisted lips, and you try really hard to push down the urge to kiss those lips. They're all pouty and full and delicious and oh, _screw it_. You tilt your chin up and catch her bottom lip between yours, suck on it a little bit and scrape your teeth over it lightly before pulling back to meet her glazed eyes.

"Because you're sexy and gorgeous and I wanna make all those people jealous when they realize that you're there with me."

You force your tone to stay light and teasing, because even though it's completely true, that seems a little bit much when your relationship doesn't have an official title.

"Hah, right. More likely it'd be the other way around. They're all gonna wonder what on Earth a girl like you is doing with someone like _me_."

You don't like that. You don't like that _at all._

"San_tana_," you groan reproachfully.

"_Britt_any," she mimics your tone teasingly, but it doesn't bring a smile to your face like it usually does.

"Don't do that. I don't like it when you do that."

She shifts under you and you look up to see her eyebrows are pulling together again. "Do what?"

"Put yourself down like that. Anyone would be lucky to dance with you. _I'm_ lucky to dance with you."

She shifts again, her fingers fidgeting in her lap, so you cover them with your hand to quiet them. "I think it's the other way around, Britt." Her voice is softer now, and she keeps her eyes fixed on the TV. That won't do either.

"Santana."

"Mmm." Her fingers twist again under your palm. You wriggle your fingers in between her hands to tangle with them. She still doesn't look at you, and it makes you sigh before you can stop it. Her hands tighten around yours. Sitting up, you pull yourself away just far enough so that only your hands are touching.

"Santana, look at me."

Her eyes drag slowly away from the screen, dropping first to her lap and then moving slowly up your arm to your shoulder, your neck, your lips, and finally to your eyes. She looks nervous and your heart hurts for it.

"Yeah Britt?"

Suddenly you're nervous too, but you push through it. This is a conversation you need to have. You take a second to gather your thoughts and shuffle them into order. You know where this talk _should _start, but that doesn't exactly make the subject any easier to bring up. Keeping your hand laced tightly with hers, you hold her anxious gaze and take the plunge, heart first.

"If someone asked you about me - about _us _- what would you tell them?"

She looks completely bewildered at first, then her whole face just seems to go blank and still. There's something almost timid in the way she doesn't quite meet your eyes, but the rest of her expression is completely empty. It's still a little strange for you to see this reserved, shy side of Santana - none of your first few encounters with her were under what you'd call normal circumstances. She was so angry and passionate the first time you met her, she seemed like a hurricane in human form. The second time you were so busy being shocked that you'd found her again, and then the both of you were too busy apologizing for things that weren't either of your faults to really get into character or personality. The third time you met...well, your mind definitely was on other things. You haven't spent (in your opinion, anyways) nearly enough time together just _being together_ since, so you'd sort of just assumed that she was a naturally quiet person, but now you're starting to wonder.

"Um...I don't...I guess...I guess I hadn't really thought about it?" Her words end in an upswing, but it doesn't do anything to soften the sting that pinches in your chest.

You drop your eyes to your free hand. "Oh." You cringe internally at how sad your voice sounds, so you add a half-hearted shrug. "Okay. Um."

She's silent, and you wonder briefly if she's scrambling for something else to say as frantically as you are. This is _not _how you expected things to go. At all. At the very least you figured she'd just avoid answering by firing your question right back at you. But, that she didn't even think about it at all? Somehow that never occurred to you. Your hand is still sandwiched between hers, but you can't bring yourself to pull it away just yet, no matter how much you think maybe you should.

She clears her throat and it startles you from your thoughts so badly you practically jump right out of your fuzzy yellow duck slippers. Her fingers tighten around yours and her thumb swipes back and forth across your palm several times, soothing your jingly nerves instantly. "I'm sorry, that was a lie. I...I think about it. A lot, actually. But I don't really know what I'd say. I know what I _want _to say, but..."

You can feel your mood rising a bit more with every word she speaks, until you're smiling softly again by the time she trails off awkwardly. She's just nervous. Nervous you can work with, easy peasy. Maybe she's just been nervous this whole time? God, that would explain _everything._ Sometimes you wanna kick yourself for being such a dope.

"Well what do you _want _to say, then?" You prod gently, smiling broadly when her cheeks flood with pink under the dusky brown.

Despite the blush, you can actually see her gather all her confidence; her shoulders square and her eyes catch yours and pierce through you before you have time to do more than gasp at the intensity behind them.

"I'd say you're mine," she states firmly, and your heart darn near pops with joy. "I'd say you and I are together - girlfriends - and that you're mine, just like I'm yours." Her voice is strong and commanding in a way that sends a thrill straight down your spine and butterflies exploding in your belly. She apparently recognizes the effect she has on you, because her serious expression turns into that sly smirk you haven't seen since the movie theater and _oh_, yeah, so so not shy.

"Well-" your voice cracks sharply, and you cough to cover your embarrassment - not that it works. Her smirk gets deeper, and your heart pounds harder. "Well," you try again, "Good. Because I'd say the same thing. And since that's the case, I'm going to have to insist that you stop bad mouthing my totally awesome girlfriend or suffer the consequences. _And_," you let your smile slip a little to let her know you're being serious, but you can't help the slight quirk that sticks in your cheeks, "no more asking 'why?' You are completely amazing and I love you, and I like doing things for and with the people I love. It makes me so sad when you ask that because it makes me think that you don't see just how special you are, which is ridiculous because you are like, a double rainbow of specialness. Everyone can see it, even if they're silly enough not to appreciate it. You-"

She stalls your tirade with the soft press of her finger against your lips. Now that you're actually looking at her, really _looking_, you realize how dark her eyes have gotten. Not in the actual color, although maybe they did because they're almost black now, instead of their usual dark chocolate, but in that way where her lids are only half open so she's looking at you through her thick lashes, and there's so much emotion in them that you think you can actually see little lightning bolts crackle through the tiny twin storms. It's passion, same as the first time you met, but there's nothing angry about it this time. It makes your mouth water and your leg tense with the instinct to clench together and alleviate the sudden ache between them.

"You...you love me?"

You can't fight the huge grin that fills your face, so you don't even bother. "Totally."

She leans in until your foreheads are pressed hard together, and whispers into your mouth, "I love you too. So much." Then she's kissing you like she wants to eat you alive and _God_, you kind of really hope she will. She pulls back just as you're about to start pushing her down into the couch, and chuckles a little at the exaggerated pout you allow to take over your face. Your hands are at the hem of her shirt, trying vainly to tug it up over her flat tummy.

"Britt."

Her voice is low and hoarse and delicious and you don't think your skin will ever stop tingling ever again. Not that you want it too. Your hands tremble a little, and you're still not able to get her shirt up much past her belly-button.

"Britt."

You sigh, and meet her eyes again. "Santana."

"Go get Winston."

Even as your eyes widen in excitement, you giggle a little at the sound of the name you gave her favorite toy ("Seriously, Santana, who has a favorite toy and doesn't name it?"), and she rolls her eyes exactly the same way she did when you first told her. Then she fixes you with a meaningful stare and repeats herself slowly. "Britt, seriously. Go. Get. Winston."

You love the way she's taking charge, but you can't help but tease a little, so you simple giggle again. "Why? Whatcha want him for?"

Her eyes never waver. "Because I want to be able to hold you in my arms while I slowly fuck you senseless."

Oh. Well then.

Suddenly your mouth is drier than the first - and last - batch of cookies you ever made on your own. You stare blankly for a second, your brain wiped completely clean by the words rasping out of your girlfriend's (_girlfriend's!_) perfect mouth and the heat blazing out of your girlfriend's gorgeous eyes. Then reality kicks back in and your mind is _anything _but clean as you scramble up and over the back of the couch, and race to her bedroom to grab Winston, his harness, and a handful of condoms out of her bottom dresser drawer. You smirk as you recall how awkward she'd been when she'd first shown you her collection. If you could even call it that. Two dildos, a harness, a vibrator, and a box of condoms do not a collection make. Not by your standards, anyhow.

When you get back, she's lounging on the couch, arms splayed across the back cushions, legs spread aggressively wide. Her pants, you notice, have been kicked almost clear across the room, and her white cotton bikini panties have just the slightest wet spot. It takes her clearing her throat to get your eyes back up to hers, and even then they take a slight detour to observe the way her t-shirt is stretched tight across her chest and shoulders. Holy moly.

"You gonna do something with that, or you gonna just stand there?"

You grin cheekily and drop to your knees in between her legs, looping one foot and then the other through the harness. When you get it up to her thighs, you lean down and nip sharply at the inside of one them, and grin against her skin when she yelps and instinctively lifts and spreads her hips. With one quick tug you slide the harness in place on her and pull the straps snug. You snap Winston into place, making sure to grind down slightly on the shaft once it's set directly over Santana's clit. She grunts and you can see her tummy muscles clench slightly. So hot.

You grab a condom and start to tear open the wrapper when suddenly her hands are covering yours. You look up to her face and see that though the passion is still there, her expression is serious again.

"Santana..?"

She swallows heavily and drops her chin. "Um, I was just...I'm not sleeping with anyone else. I- I mean I don't want to, so...If you don't…"

It takes you a minute to catch on to what she's saying, but when it finally clicks in your brain, you have to surge forward and kiss her or you might just implode with love right there. You only pull back when you're both panting heavily.

"I don't," you whisper breathlessly. "I don't want anyone but you. But, are you sure?"

The intensity is back as she cups your jaw gently and pulls you back up to her lips for another long, rough kiss, almost growling out her words in between frantic tongue strokes. "I'm so sure, baby. I wanna do this with you. I wanna share everything with you."

You chuck the condom somewhere behind you and press her chest so that she's sitting back against the couch cushions again. You smirk a little when she gasps. Like you're not going to cop a feel when your hands are that close to boobs that incredible. _Puh-lease_.

You tease one nipple over her t-shirt with the thumb of your left hand as your right hand and drifts down to grip the base of the bright blue dildo. Making sure you have her full attention, you start slowly licking up its length, before sliding just the tip into your mouth. Santana grunts again as you bear down on the harness with your fist, rubbing slowly against her clit.

"Fuck, Britt- Uuhh! God, fuh-uck! Stop teasing and geh-uunnh… Get up here." She wraps your hair around her fingers loosely and gives a light tug, so you obey. Standing slowly, you unbutton your jeans and yank them and your underwear down to your ankles in one swift motion. Stepping carefully out of the clothes, you grab her shoulders to steady yourself as you settle in Santana's lap, making sure that Winston is pressed between your belly and hers. You look down at her from your higher position, but don't move otherwise.

"What now, baby?" Your hands stay on her shoulders, and you keep mostly still as you watch her, waiting for her direction. You're hers, just like she said, and you intend to show her.

"Up on your knees, gorgeous. I wanna see if you're ready for me."

You lift up to balance on your knees, keeping your trembling hands pressed against her shoulders as she drags her nails up your thighs. Her left hand drifts slowly over your right hip, your belly, your mound, until finally gentle fingers caress through the scalding heat between your legs.

"Oh...Brittany, you're so _wet_. Is this all for me?" She punctuates her question with a gentle probing finger, gone as quick as it was there. You whimper and nod, bending at the elbows to meet her with a sloppy, needy kiss.

"You have no idea how hot you make me, Santana. All the time."

She smiles up at you with shining eyes, and it takes your breath away.

"I love you. More than I could ever tell you. Now hold on to me so I can show you." With no other warning, she sheaths herself in you completely, wraps her arms around you at the waist and under your ass, flips the both of you so that you're pinned beneath her on the couch. She props your left leg against the back cushions, spreads your right leg wide, and grinds down into you hard you see stars for an instant. Steady hands rise to cup your face, drawing you into a hot, wet, possessive kiss that throbs in time with her hips against yours.

Her left hand slides down to slip under your shirt and bra to knead at your breasts whileher right tangles in your hair, yanking your head lightly to the side. She starts sucking and nipping at your pulse point furiously, and the thought of her marking you so passionately makes you tighten around her as she fills you. She grunts at the resistance and starts pistoning into you even faster, answering your body's call.

"God, Sa- Sa- Santana! I'm so- I'm gonna- I'm clo…" Your hand rake across the back of her t-shirt, then slide down to dig into the meat of her perfect ass. She hisses at the crescent marks your nails are surely leaving in her skin, and tugs at your hair in retaliation. Ripping her mouth from your throat, she pulls your head back so that she's staring directly into your eyes. "Mine," she growls throatily, and the sudden pressure of her fingers on your clit sends you catapulting over the edge.

Your vision whites out completely and you can feel your throat working around a silent scream, but the powerful waves that crash through you rob you of any further awareness. When they finally subside, you're left gasping for air and clinging to the shuddering body collapsed on top of you. The reverberations of her own orgasm translate into tiny tremors inside of you, making your hips buck with aftershock.

Wincing slightly at the tenderness, and with her still inside, you wrap your legs around the backs of hers and thread your fingers through her hair, holding her against you with as much strength as your body can muster.

"Whoa."

Santana's body shakes again, and the fast, heavy puffs that sneak under your shirt and across your collarbone alert you to her laughter.

"Yeah, that-" Her voice cracks slightly, so she clears her throat and tries again. "That was...um. That was a little.."

"Phenomenal. I think the word you're looking for is phenomenal."

She laughs again, but freezes immediately when you whimper.

"Britt? Are you okay? Did I hurt-"

You smile tenderly and hold her tighter. "God, no. I'm..ugh, okay doesn't even begin to cover it, honey. Just...Try not to move too much for a minute or two, alright? I'm gonna be walking funny for a week as it is."

"Mmmm. That doesn't really work for me. You should know by now I'm good for more than just one." She pumps her hips once, so gently that under normal circumstances, you probably wouldn't even feel it, but in your oversensitive state, it sends a ripple of pleasure burning through your belly. You groan and claw at her back weakly, but she simply chuckles and goes still again.

"Shhhh, plenty of time to love you again later, Britt-Britt. Rest now."

"Jesus, Santana, where did all this come from? And here I thought you were just being shy."

You can practically _hear_ her smirk. "I didn't know it was okay before now. I didn't want to...presume too much, I guess." She pauses, etching little designs into your side with her fingers as she gathers her thoughts. "I think I was waiting for something without knowing why or even what it was."

You process this, wondering just what about tonight could have given her motive to change her mind. You think you have a pretty good idea. Still, it never hurts to be sure. "But not anymore? What made you change your mind?"

Lifting herself up and locking her elbows on either side of your head, she smiles down at you softly, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You're sure of it.

"You love me?"

"I really do."

When her hips start slowly bearing down on you again, your moans are so loud you almost miss her whispered answer.

"That's all the motive I need, babe."


End file.
